Episode 12: In the Light
by JPC
Summary: Buffy has her hands full dealing with daytime vampires, the return of Amy's mom, and some eye-opening news about the nature of Slayer Power
1. Send in the Clone

Dawn was fidgeting impatiently in English class, watching the clock. Five minutes till the end of the final period of the day. As usual, the teacher was droning on about something which was absolutely meaningless to Dawn's life:

"Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, Picture of Dorian Gray, A Doll's House — what do they have in common? They're all short. They were all written in the final years of the 19th century. Something about the end of a century makes people pessimistic. And they all share two themes — dualism and loneliness." The teacher wrote these two words on the board.

"Dualism — Dorian is eternally young and beautiful on the outside, but rotten, soulless and heartless on the inside. Jekyll is one person during the day and another at night. Nora appears to have a happy family, but her marriage is loveless and she feels no true affection for her children.

"Loneliness — No one finds love in these stories. Dorian doesn't know how to love. He destroys every life he touches. He ruins every person foolish enough to care about him. Jekyll's too insecure to tell the woman he loves how he feels about her. Nora always felt alone; at the end of the play she is alone.

"Jekyll and Dorian try to deal with the loneliness through promiscuity, but that only leaves them empty. It also entails risks of its own. Both men both die horribly disfigured in the manner of syphilis victims. A common theme in the literature of this period was that sex can kill you. This metaphor was of course taken to its logical conclusion in 1897 in Dracula, where a bunch of gorgeous monsters go around seducing men and women and infecting their blood. Hence the renewed popularity of the vampire metaphor in the age of AIDS."

"No one finds love in these stories. Except, ironically, in Dracula. I know I didn't assign that one, but has anyone read it?" Janice raised her hand. "Janice, how does it end? What happens to the main characters?"

Janice thought a moment. "They get married, have kids, live happily ever after."

"How strangely conventional," the young female teacher wryly responded. "Of course, at the beginning of the story the hero and heroine are boring, uninspiring mediocrities. They only find love after proving their bravery and courage by risking their lives to kill monsters. So maybe the overarching theme of late-Victorian literature is that loneliness is bad, promiscuity is worse, and the only path to happiness is finding true love. But no monsters, no love. Kind of depressing for those of us who live in the real, monster-free world." The bell rang. The students left the classroom.

Dawn was walking to her locker. On the way, a cute jock she didn't know that well named Clarke approached her. "Say Dawn, what did you think of the chemistry test today?"

Dawn was surprised he was talking to her. "Wasn't too bad," she answered indifferently.

"By the way, Dawn, I missed chem class last Tuesday. I was wondering if I could borrow your notes. I'll give them back to you tomorrow morning. Or if you want them back sooner I can drop them off at your house sometime tonight. Whatever's fine with you."

Dawn was perplexed by Clarke's attention. He was coming up with lame excuses to talk with her and see her. He sounded like — Brandon. But Clarke was popular. He didn't need to act desperate. Dawn figured this must be a joke.

"Why don't you ask Roger?," Dawn suggested. "He's in the same class, plus he's like your best friend. Wouldn't be the easiest thing to do?"

Clarke had to come up with a plausible excuse to explain why he was going out of his way to talk to Dawn. "Uh, Roger, um, doesn't take good notes. I figured since you're smart you might be a better person to copy off of."

Dawn had to come up with her own excuse to end the conversation. "Uh, Clarke, thing is, I don't have my chem notes on me. I think they're at home. So, sorry." Clarke gave up and left Dawn alone. She put her books in her bookbag, closed the locker, and went to talk to Janice.

"Janice, Clarke just talked to me for no reason. He's the second boy this. Are they playing some joke on me?"

"Dawn, since when was getting attention from cute boys a bad thing?"

"When they're not serious. When they're just playing you. Clarke and the others, they're popular. They have no reason to be nice to me."

"Unless they like you," Janice offered as they walked out the school doors.

"Why would they like me? They used to act like I didn't even exist."

Janice tried to explain. "It's the Steven effect. When you get a cute boyfriend, people sometimes start to look at a person differently. Didn't you notice how people looked at you two?"

"I remember the girls were real jealous. I liked that."

"And when the girls get jealous, it's only natural for the boys to start thinking you're hot stuff. They may also notice that your boyfriend's no longer around."

"So they swoop in on me, like vultures," Dawn commented.

"Why is this bothering you? Look on the bright side. Hell, there's only bright side. And think of the dating opportunities."

"Dating other guys? What's wrong with you? I'm with Steven!," Dawn exclaimed as they left school grounds and walked home.

"So before he left you guys agreed not to see other people while you're apart?"

"Well, no, not exactly. But he promised he'd be back and then we'd be together again."

"And in the meantime? Did he say anything about that?"

"No. Not directly."

"That's like a green light. You can see people. He can see people. Maybe he already has. I don't see what's wrong with you dating other guys. It's just dating. You can still have a life. Come on, Dawny. It's not like Steven's coming back to Sunnydale tomorrow."

Janice and Dawn split, each going to their respective homes. Dawn got within two blocks of her house when she saw a mirage. It was Connor, standing on the sidewalk. She figured she missed him so much she was hallucinating. That wasn't a good sign. But the closer she got, the more real he looked. She was five feet in front of him, looking at his face. He was staring at hers. The mouth, the eyes, the hair — it was him.

"You're back. You're back!," a breathless Dawn exclaimed.

"Where else should I be?" Connor answered with his usual terseness.

"So you and your dad sorted everything out? You two get along now?"

"I love my father. He loves me. He always has."

"That's great. This is so great. I'm so glad you came back. I, I can't believe this is happening."

"This is where I belong," Connor declared.

For Dawn, it really was a dream come true. She smiled, her heart raced. Connor smiled back. "Wanna go to up to my room?," Dawn asked.

Connor smiled. "I'd like that."

Dawn and Connor entered. Buffy was at work. They had the place to themselves. Dawn was elated. She turned to Connor and repeated "I can't believe this is really happening."

"Like a dream come true," he replied.

She ran up the stairs. He eagerly followed her. They went into her room and sat on her bed. "Don't get me wrong. I want to hear all about what you've been up to. But before that, well . . ." Her voice trailed off. She moved her head towards his. He followed suit. They kissed. Dawn was on cloud nine. It was such a perfect, transcendent moment. To feel his lips on hers, to touch him, it was everything she had been missing for the past six weeks. Now the waiting and the longing was finally over. They were together again, and Dawn could be truly happy.

Dawn held Connor as they kissed. He felt a bit clammy. But he still felt good. He held her, and that felt even better. She went to take off his shirt. He caressed her neck and face. He seemed to be enjoying it as much as she was. It was all so exciting, so thrilling for the both of them.

Dawn open her eyes and looked into Connor's. They looked different. She felt his face. It felt different. Then something about his kissing seemed odd. They parted lips. She looked at him. His brow was bumpy. His upper incisors were long and sharp. His eyes were yellow. Connor looked like a vampire. Connor was a vampire!

Dawn stood up in shock. She screamed at the top of her lungs. Connor stood up and felt his face. He realized what the problem was. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I would never hurt you."

Buffy was driving home from work. She pulled into the driveway. When she stepped out of the car, she heard Dawn's screams. Buffy ran inside and bounded up the stairs. She barged into Dawn's room, and saw Connor. Even with his vampire face she still recognized him. Dawn was still screaming hysterically.

Connor was apologizing profusely and trying to get Dawn to calm down. Buffy grabbed a pencil from Dawn's desk. She approached Connor. "I'm sorry. I'm not going to hurt you. Please, relax. Calm down. Just please calm down." He saw Buffy approaching with the pointy wooden object. "Please, don't. You don't know what your doing," he told her. Connor moved away from Buffy until his back was against the wall. He didn't try to fight. As she drove the pencil into his heart, he flinched. "You don't understand, you don't know what you're doing," he said turning to dust.

Dawn collapsed onto the floor and cried. She was inconsolable. Her love, her one and only, was gone forever. It felt like the end of the world. Buffy hugged her and tried to comfort her. That was hard, because even Buffy couldn't make sense of it all. "I don't understand how this could happen," she told Dawn. "How could Angel let this happen?" She realized she needed to call Angel. Buffy left the room. Dawn was still on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. Her dream had become the worst of nightmares.

"Hi Angel. How are things with your son? Is he with you?"

"Well, not right now," Angel responded.

Buffy grew worried. "What's wrong? Is he missing?"

"What? No!He's in his room reading Les Miserables. I think Connor's been watching too much tv. He needs to read more. He complained at first, but now he likes it, although he's a little too fond of the Javert character."

Buffy was relieved. And confused. Very, very confused. "So he's with you, right now, in the hotel."

"Of course he is. What's this about?"

Buffy had to come up with an excuse. "Oh, nothing much. I just worry about the little fella." That was a bald-faced lie if there ever was one. "So he's adjusted well to the move home?"

Angel was as to gush about his boy as Buffy was uneager to hear it. "I think he has. I bought him his first pair of skates for Christmas. You should see him on the ice. His speed's amazing! No surprise there."

"Good to now," Buffy interjected. "Best of luck with the whole parenting thing. Bye." Buffy hung up. Angel was rather confused. But Wesley came in with information on the demon they were tracking, and it was back to business.

Buffy went up to Dawn's room. She was still on the floor crying. Buffy hugged her. "It's okay Dawn. He's alive. He's with Angel right now."

"That wasn't Connor?"

"No, it wasn't. Connor's in LA."

"But it looked, it sounded, just like him."

"I don't know what that was. But it wasn't him."

Dawn composed herself. Then she remembered something. "Whatever that was, I met it outside, in the sunlight. What was a vampire doing out in the daytime?" Buffy knew that was a good question.

As Willow walked across campus, she caught sight of bad memory. It was Amy. She caught sight Willow. It was too late for Willow to duck out of the way and avoid her. Amy approached, and Willow decided to deal with this as civilly as possible. "It's been a while," Amy began.

"Not long enough," Willow responded with more than a hint of hostility.

"Oh right. I forgot. You didn't want me around. Something about me being a bad influence. Who knows, I might have tempted you to abuse dark magics. Good thing you avoided me and kept that from happening." There was more than a tinge of smug self-satisfaction in Amy's response.

"Amy, I don't have much of an appetite right now for sour grapes."

"That's not what this is about. I know you've been through a lot, and I thought you could use a friend. And I don't mean a magic friend. I know you're done with that. Some people can't handle the power. But we were friends long before either of us tried our first spell. To be honest, you spend three years in a cage, you lose track of a lot of people. You're really all I got left. I'd like us to be friends again. Regular, everyday, conjure-free friends."

Willow decided to switch the topic away from magic. "So what are you doing on campus?"

"I go here. Had to grow up sooner or later. Made up my last few credits, graduated high school. Took a bunch of courses here last summer. I've got a lot of catching up to do."

"It's nice that you're moving forward."

"You too. So Willow, wanna hang out sometime?"

Willow paused. "I don't think so, Amy. I'm sorry. It's just that, you remind me of all that stuff I'm trying to put behind me. It's not your fault. I just have a lot to deal with, and it's best if I deal alone. But it was nice to see you. Good luck with everything." Willow walked past Amy. Amy was telling the truth about her loneliness, though not about her turning over a new leaf. She knew where she could find a friend. Someone who wouldn't judge her. Someone who couldn't abandon her.

Daytime vampires. Just what Buffy needed. What made Slaying bearable was that half of the time Buffy was off-duty. The idea of round-the-clock patrolling was terrifying. At least most people spent most of the night in their homes, where they are safe from attack. In the daytime, people were out working, shopping, living their lives. Daytime was much more "target rich" environment for vampires. Buffy was out walking the streets. Just in case there were others, she carried a cross and stake in her jacket pockets. Of course, in a suburb like Sunnydale, the sidewalks aren't exactly crowded with pedestrians. But the shopping malls were.

Buffy went to the mall, scoping the shops and walkways for suspicious characters. As her eyes wandered, she nearly collided with two young men heading the other way. At the last second one of them quickly jumped out of her path. She heard a muffled noise, like an animal in pain. She remembered she had a cross in her front left pocket. Buffy decided to give these two gentlemen a litmus test.

Buffy walked up from behind. She took out her cross and lightly touched it to the back of one of the men. If they were human, they'd hardly notice. If they were vampires, they'd show their true face. When the cross touched his back, the man's skin burned. He turned around. He was bumpy and fangy. The man he was with wasn't. He looked human. That man tried to sort things out and his friend quickly returned to his human face. "Miss, this is just a big misunderstanding. We're sorry to bother you. If you just let us go on our way — "

Let them go on their way! Who did these vampires think they were dealing with? Buffy put away the cross and pulled out her stake. "Now, now, let's not resort to violence," one of them told Buffy.

These vampires sure had attitude. But Buffy didn't want to made a scene. "Get outside. And if you touch anyone on the way out, you're dust."

"Touch anyone? What do you think we are?," one of them asked Buffy.

"You got us all wrong. We're not like other vampires," the other one declared.

"I know. Most vampires don't go hunting in the daytime."

"We aren't hunting."

"You expect me to believe you came here to shop?"

"You're the Slayer."

"Gosh. What gave me away?"

"We're on your side."

"Oh no. Don't even try to say what I think you're about to say."

"I've never even killed anyone. Same with him."

"And I'm here to make sure you never do," Buffy replied. By now they were outside, standing in an empty patch of parking lot. Buffy didn't want to create a scene. "Now that no one's around, any last words?"

"You don't want to do this," one of the vampires told Buffy.

"Trust me, I do."

"We're not like the others," the other one said.

"You will be in about a minute. " Buffy kicked one of them in the face, and punched the other one in the jaw. They went vampy, but stayed on the defensive.

"We don't want to fight you. We don't want to hurt you," one of them told Buffy.

Buffy socked each of them again. "Good. Cause I don't want you to hurt me either." She gave each of them flying kicks and they fell to the ground. Buffy approached one with her stake poised to strike. He was on his back. He put out his hands to grab Buffy's right arm and hold back her stake. The other vampire came from behind and socked Buffy in the lower back. He put her in a full nelson to try to restrain her. "I don't want to hurt you. But I can't let you kill Robert. Let us go, and no one gets killed." Buffy got her right arm free, broke out of the hold, and flipped this vampire on his back. Then Robert ran up and knocked Buffy down with a flying kick. Buffy vaulted to her feet and kicked Robert to the ground. Then she pivoted, kicked John twice in the head and punched him in the stomach. He threw a right hook. Buffy ducked. Robert tried to attack her from behind. She knocked him down with a right elbow and a left reverse kick. John tried a left jab. Buffy blocked it. She landed two lefts to John's face and then staked him.

"You monster!," Robert yelled as he tackled Buffy. He pushed the back of her head into the pavement twice, and held her down. She punched him in the face and threw him off of her. When both of them stood up, Buffy threw a right hook. Robert dodged the blow, got behind Buffy and tried to put her in a sleeper hold. Buffy stepped on his foot and elbowed him twice in the ribs. He let go. She turned around, hit him with a roundhouse kick, and staked him. "You made a mistake," he said before becoming dust.

Buffy drove to the Magic Box and stomped into the store. She was not having a good day. "The daytime! They're out in the daytime!," Buffy yelled as she walked past Anya and into the training room, where she battered the punching bag to work off her rage.

Anya went in to talk to her. "Who are out in the daytime?"

"Vampires!"

"All of them?"

"Probably not. These guys seem new. I've killed three today. And the worst thing about them is they plead for their lives! They try to make me feel like I'm a bad person for slaying them. It's all I don't want to hurt you' and we don't have to resort to violence.' Don't have to resort to violence? They're vampires! What else can they resort to?"

They could be adapting. "Maybe they know your track record, that if you fought them there's a 99.9% chance you'd stake them. Violence hasn't gotten the job done, so the smarter ones are adopting non-violent passive resistance. Like Ghandi. Maybe they believe that if they refuse to fight you and instead lecture you about pacifism you'll get to so annoyed and bored that you'll leave town. Obviously you are annoyed, so they may be on to something."

"Wonderful. Next thing I know they'll be marching down Main Street," Buffy quipped with a sigh.

Anya continued on that tangent. "Down with Slayer oppression.' We're here, we're undead, we're not going to take it anymore.' Then the police and spray them with fire hoses full of holy water. Actually, that last idea doesn't sound so bad. If a priest blessed a hydrant, would that bless all the water that comes through it? Think of the labor-saving possibilities! Tens of thousands of gallons of liquid death."

"If it's one thing I hate more than a killer vampire, it's a vampire who doesn't even have the guts to put up his hands and fight," Buffy declared. Actually, that sounded a bit like Spike when he was chipped. She didn't realize this.

"I still still don't get the part about not getting killed by sunlight," Anya added. "How is that possible?"

"I don't know," Buffy responded. "Sunlight doesn't kill them, but stakes do. If you can, look through some of the books here, see if there's anything on spells that can do that.

"Like some sort of temporary magical sunscreen."

"Something along those lines. I'm going back out to patrol. Never thought I'd have to do that when the sun's up."

Buffy went home and saw Dawn in the living room. "There's more of them," she told Dawn. "I killed two more at the mall."

Willow was working at her computer in the dining room. "More of what?," she asked.

"Vampires. Outside. In the daylight," Buffy told her. Willow dashed into the living room.

"How did they pull that off?," Willow asked.

"We don't know," Buffy answered. "They're not invincible. They're just sun-proof. And sarcastic. Or just idiotic. They act all surprised when I try to kill them."

"Obviously they don't understand the rules of the game," Willow inferred. "Which isn't that strange, seeing how they're already breaking one of the big ones. How many of them are out there?"

"That's what we need to find out. Willow, is Xander home from work yet?"

"He should be in a few minutes."

"Call him. Tell him what the deal is. You two hit the shopping mall. That's where I found two of them. I'll go downtown. Dawn, you check out the parks."

"Question," Willow began. "If we find one of these vampires, try to kill it ourselves, or play it safe and call you?"

"They're very cowardly. You attack it, it'll probably run away. First, flush it out of the crowds so it can't hurt anyone. Then beep me."

Buffy dropped Dawn off at the park, and went to Main Street. Willow got in touch with Xander and explained the latest dilemma as best she could. She told him where to meet her. It was about an hour until sunset.

Dawn was strolling around the meadow, looking for anything suspicious. She heard someone approaching from behind. She pulled out her stake and turned around. It was Clarke. She quickly hid the stake behind her back and put it in her back pocket. "Uh, hi there Clarke. What are you doing here?"

"Um, I was just walking home from practice and I saw you. Thought I'd say hi."

"Mission accomplished. You said hi. I said hi. That about does it, right?" Aside from not wanting to hang out with Clarke, Dawn was worried about his safety. And he was distracting her from finding vampires.

Clarke was rapidly discovering that Dawn was playing to get. "I Don't see the harm in talking."

"It is the polite thing to do. I guess. Whatever. So, um, well, how's wrestling?" He did just come from practice, so it seemed like an obvious question.

"Ever do something because everyone expected you to?"

"Yeah. I think so," Dawn responded.

"That's wrestling for me. My dad was state champion. He loved it, he had fun doing it, so he thinks I will. It's not like he's living vicariously through me or anything bad like that. He means well. The problem is, no matter how good I get I know I'll never be as good as him. I was third at counties last year, which is, like, rare for a sophomore. Still, I always feel like I'm wrestling in his shadow. Know what I mean?" Even while trying to get sympathy, Clarke couldn't help touting himself.

Well, obviously Dawn had some idea what he meant. She decided to play along, even though he was being calculating. "I understand. So you don't like wrestling, even though you're captain and everything?"

"I don't know if I like it. I just know that I'd feel a bit empty if I stopped doing it. I'd just get bored. Same way with football. It's what I do. It's what my friends to. It's a part of my life. Dawn, I have a confession to make. You know why I'm here talking to you?"

Oh no, Dawn thought, he's going to tell me he really likes me. She didn't want to hear that. "I really don't care."

He continued. "Because I figured that with you I could take about something other than wrestling, or football, or which cheerleaders my buddies want to ask out, or which one of my buddies the cheerleaders want to ask out. You seem a little less petty, and a lot more original and interesting than that."

Dawn was beginning to think that she should stop giving this boy the cold shoulder. Clarke seemed nice enough. And he was awfully cute. Five nine, chiselled body, wavy black hair, soft brown eyes, strong but pretty face. No harm in giving him a chance.

"So why now, all of a sudden?," Dawn asked. "What changed to make you to notice me?"

"Me, I guess. Kinda getting tired of only being around people who do the same stuff I do. By the way, what do you do? What's your thing?" This was a question Dawn would have to tip-toe around.

"You mean what do for kicks? A little juvenile delinquency. Some fighting. I'm in a gang. You didn't know that?"

"He-heh-heh. That's the cool thing about you, Dawn. All that high school crap — who's May Queen, who's Homecoming King — you know it doesn't matter. You're smart enough not to care."

"Not caring. Thanks. So that's a good trait?"

"How bout hard to please, suspicious of strangers, impossible to compliment," Clarke joked.

"I just like watching you try so hard to impress me. Your effort is very impressive."

"Sounds like I've succeeded. Later Dawn. See ya round." Clarke walked away. He seemed like someone Dawn could like being nice to. And she was flattered by his tireless efforts to win her over. Then she remembered what she was there for. She was worried. Maybe she missed something. Still, she hadn't heard any screams. And she looked around. It was nearly sunset, and the park was empty. No vampires here. Dawn walked back to Main Street to meet up with Buffy.

"This figures," Xander told Willow as they walked around the mall. "Any old town can have vampires that come out at night. But this isn't any old town. It's the Hellmouth. So of course we have to do the rest of the world one better."

"It's perfect," Willow responded. "They can blend in, look human, act human. No one would know. They could make friends, get people to trust them, then one day - "

"Their friends are lunch?," Xander finished.

"Exactly. They don't have to attack people. They can just fool them, take advantage of the gullible humans, then kill them with kindness." Willow was of course talking about Spike. Xander was unaware of this metaphor. He didn't know why Spike was suddenly out of the picture. Matter of fact, he didn't care. It wasn't as if he missed Blondie Bear.

"So what are we looking for?," Xander asked Willow.

"Fangs, bumpy faces, screaming humans. The usual signs. You notice anything suspicious?"

"The Orange Julius is gone from the food court. But other than that, no."

"Looks like this place is dead to the undead."

Buffy went in to check up on Anya's research. "Find anything?"

"It's not magic. If the vampires were casting spells, they would make themselves invincible. Why go halfway, protect yourself from the sun but not the stake? I've found a few invincibility spells that can make the vampire impossible to kill for a few hours. But then they die. Nothing to fit what you've described. It doesn't make sense."

"Nope. Sure doesn't," Buffy responded. Then she went out onto the street. Two men across the street caught her eye. They were holding styrofoam coffee cups. One of the men took a drink. A drop of liquid fell on his lips, and rolled down towards his chin. It was dark red. He quickly stuck out his tongue to lick it up.

Buffy ran to the other side of the street. She got in front of them and pulled out her cross. This stopped them in their tracks. "Sorry to get in your way. My bad," one of them said. They moved to the side. Buffy moved with them. Then she thrust her cross at the face of one of the men. He recoiled in pain. Buffy had found two more vampires. The sun had yet to set. Buffy pulled out her stake. The two vampires ran away down an alley. Buffy pursued. As they fled, they dropped their cups and the blood splashed on the ground.

One of the vampires pushed a dumpster into the middle of the alley to block Buffy. She leaped over the dumpster and grabbed the vampire as he was running away. Buffy knocked him to the ground. The other vampire turned and ran back to help his friend. This was also unusual — one vampire risking his life to help another vampire instead of saving his own skin.

Amy approached the high school. She found an unlocked door and entered. She looked around. The janitor moved to another hall. He was out of sight. Now she was alone. "Proteus, changer of forms, return thy prisoner." Green light swirled around her. "Undo thy work, and restore thy victim." Green and blue light shot from Amy's fingertips towards the cheerleading trophy. The glass on the outside of the trophy case shattered outwards. The concussive force of the blast knocked Amy to the ground.

Catherine Madison looked around. Everything was different. She could move her limbs. What's more, move her head in order to see herself move her limbs. "Free! I'm free!" she exulted.

Amy stood up. Catherine saw her. "Amy? You did this? My baby did this all by herself?"

"Welcome back mom," Amy responded with a smile. Still blown away by her daughter's achievement, Catherine ran to Amy and hugged her.

"I always knew you'd make me proud," Catherine told Amy. "You saved me! You brought me back from a living hell. You can't imagine how good it feels to be out of there."

"I think I have some idea. So, I guess this means you owe me your life," Amy smugly told her mother.

"Now we're even," Catherine half-joked. "I love you Amy."

"I love you too mom," Amy replied with a smile.

Buffy was in the alley. After she knocked down one vampire, the other charged towards her and grabbed her. He pushed her up against the wall. Buffy head-butted him in the nose, kneed him in the stomach, and punched him in the face. He fell to the ground. Buffy bent down to stake him. When she did, the other vampire kicked her in the face. He threw a punch which Buffy blocked. She landed two punches. Then a roundhouse kick of hers sent this vampire into the wall.

The other vampire lunged at Buffy from behind. She got out of his way and sent him back to the ground with a spin kick to his head. Now she focused on the one vampire still standing, the one with his back against the wall. She hit him three times in the face and went to stake him. But just before she could plunge the stake into his chest, Buffy felt a tremendous shock radiate all throughout her body. She fell to the ground.

"That's enough for now," Patrick told Buffy.

NEXT: Patrick tells Buffy how and why he did it, then tries to convince her that while he knows way too much about vampires, he's not evil Also, before she goes after Buffy, Amy's mom asks Anya to help her wreak vengeance on her ex-husband.


	2. Playing with Vampires

[Patrick explains to Willow how he could make daytime vampires. And Anya explains to Xander why he's a total slut.]

Buffy looked up and saw a slightly built young man standing over her. Buffy didn't know he was Patrick Gugan because she had never seen him before. All she knew was that a man was attacking her, presumably so that the two vampires could bite and kill her. When Buffy tried to get up, she was shocked again. Patrick kept his distance, standing fifteen feet away.

"I want to have a calm, non-violent discussion with you, Buffy. The last thing I want to do is hurt you. Promise me you won't hurt Anthony or Joseph and I'll stop the shock treatment." Gugan was holding a taser. Its electrodes had shot out 15 and attached themselves to Buffy's clothes. Gugan knew better than to get within arm's reach of a Slayer.

"Go to hell," Buffy told him. Gugan administered one more powerful shock. Buffy felt severely weakened. She realized that if this continued she'd soon be unconscious. Thus she concluded it was best for her to play along with this maniac, at least for now. "Fine, truce," she conceded. Gugan pulled the electrodes off of her. She stood up.

Gugan looked at the two vampires. "Anthony, Joseph, this was all a big misunderstanding. This woman is the Slayer." A look of awe came over their faces as they gazed at Buffy like she was royalty or something. For Buffy, this was getting way too surreal for comfort.

"Then why did she try to hurt us?," Anthony asked Gugan.

"Because you're vampires, and I'm a vampire Slayer," Buffy answered. It seemed like such a ridiculous question.

"But you told us the Slayer doesn't hurt good vampires," Joseph said to Gugan.

"She didn't know you were good vampires. Can you tell them you're sorry?," he asked her.

"Sorry for what! For doing my job?," she replied scornfully.

"Please, Buffy. It'll make everything copacetic," Gugan pleaded.

Buffy rolled her eyes and groaned. This truly was an opposite sketch. "Okay. I'm sorry I tried to kill you. Happy now?"

Anthony and Joseph looked relieved. "That wasn't so hard, was it?," Gugan said to Buffy. Then he turned to Anthony and Joseph. "How would you guys like to do what we talked about?"

"You mean slaying?," Joseph asked with excitement in his voice. For Buffy, things were just getting weirder and weirder.

"I think you're ready," Gugan responded. "Let's head to that place I mentioned."

"It's about time," Anthony responded. The two of them had gotten bored doing nothing.

"Then let's go," Patrick declared. "Buffy, you should come along. You're in for quite a pleasant surprise." Anthony and Joseph walked off. Gugan and Buffy followed. She still thought these guys were trouble, and she didn't want to let them get away. And of course she didn't trust their extremely creepy human helper. Trying to break through the hostility, Gugan struck up a conversation with Buffy.

"I knew I shouldn't have let them out when I was at work. This is entirely my fault. They needed me there to observe," he told her.

"What the hell is going on?," she asked.

"Did you kill the other three?"

"I'm a Slayer. They were vampires."

"They were vampires with souls," Gugan shot back. "Just like Anthony and Joseph. It's not you're fault. You didn't know any better."

"They were cursed? All of them?" She thought someone from seriously cheapening Angel's predicament.

"No. They never lost theirs to begin with. I'll let you in on a little secret. Vampires don't lose their souls when they're sired. They only lose their souls after they feed off their first human. When they rise, that's their only desire. Instinct overrides conscience. But you capture them right away, fill them up with pig's blood, and in a few days they lose the instinct. Then the soul retakes control. They like people. They dislike vampires who feed on people. They have all this strength, and need something to do with it. So they fight and slay other vampires. That's what you're going to see in a few minutes."

Buffy wasn't in the mood to debate this ridiculous assertion. She had plenty of other questions. "A soul doesn't let them go out in the sunlight."

"No it doesn't. That is my gift to them. A little gene therapy. I'll go into the how of it later on. For now I'll just tell you the why. Since we want them to protect humans, it's best if they can identify with them and not feel alienated. Also, I want them to have as normal a life as possible. They had their humanity stolen from them. I can't give them that back. But that doesn't mean they have to live in the dark."

Buffy thought she had this guy figured out. "Using science to create demons to fight demons. It's been done. And last time it didn't end happily for the scientist."

"Maggie Walsh was NOT a scientist. She was a psychology professor. That's a psuedo-science. And building a monster by sewing together body parts from cadavers — so nineteenth century. All that funding and she didn't do a lick of serious research. I hated the Initiative. Not because they were fools, which they were, but because they wanted to destroy every demon fighter who wasn't a fool. They were enemies of competence."

This guy seemed to know way too much. Before Buffy could respond, Gugan told her "I think curtain's about to go up." Anthony and Joseph ran into an abandoned warehouse. Gugan turned to Buffy. "Come on in. It's showtime." He ran into the building. Not wanting to let these suspicious characters get away, Buffy followed.

Gugan climbed up on the catwalk above the floor. Buffy did the same. Buffy saw four vampires on the warehouse floor. She'd killed a nest here the month before, so they had to be new in town. Buffy's instinct was to leap down and slay the vampires. Even if Gugan's boys wanted to kill them, a couple would probably escape. Patrick knew this. He grabbed her right arm. "Hold on. Give my boys a chance." Buffy thought that sounded reasonable. And she wasn't crazy about getting shocked again.

The four vampires saw Anthony and Joseph. "What's this? You two moving in on my territory?," the leader of the four vamps asked Anthony and Joseph.

"No. This place is a bit underfurnished for my tastes." Anthony responded. The head vamp and his buddies were prepared to teach these pushy upstarts a lesson. He grabbed a metal bar, and swung at Anthony. Anthony grabbed the bar, kicked this vampire twice in the stomach, ripped the bar from the head vampire's arms, and knocked him to the ground.

Joseph focused on the other three. He punched one in the face. Another vampire tried to punch him. Joseph grabbed his fist and threw him into the third vampire, knocking them both down. While the head vampire was down, Anthony hit him twice in the head with the metal bar. Then this vampire grabbed hold of the bar and used it to flip Anthony over and send him to the ground. The head vampire got up, ready to turn the tables.

Joseph jumped onto a wooden crate about four feet off the floor. He could see Anthony was in a bit of trouble. So he leaped off the crate and tackled the head vampire from behind. The metal bar fell out of his hands. Anthony got up and grabbed it. With Joseph grappling with the head vampire, Anthony focused on the other three. They scrambled to find weapons of their own. Buffy watches as an informed spectator, interested in seeing how Anthony handled the triple team. 

The head vampire threw Joseph off his back and rose to his feet. Like any other dominant male predator, he was adamant about defending his territory. Also, he assumed that his life wasn't in danger. Vampires never fought each other to the death over turf. It just wasn't worth it. A few punches, rough this kid up, and he'll run away with his tail between his legs. That's how it always was.

The head vampire threw a right hook. Joseph blocked the blow with his left arm. Then Joseph thrust his right arm towards the vampire's chest and staked him. This was a stunning turn of events. The head vampire definitely had not anticipated this.

Meanwhile, Anthony took on three vampires. One of them wielded a chain, another a 2x4. The third hadn't found a weapon, so he ran away from Anthony. Joseph, fresh from his kill, ran after this vampire and cornered him. The vampire attacked Joseph.

Anthony faced the vamp with the chain and dropped his metal bar. Anthony's opponent smiled and whipped the chain at him. Anthony grabbed hold of the chain, spun the vampire around, and threw him into a metal column. The other vampire swung at Anthony with his 2x4. Anthony dove to the ground to avoid the blow. He picked his metal bar off the ground and stood up. Then he swung for the vampire's hands and struck him hard on the knuckles. The pain caused the vampire to loosen his grip on the 2x4. Then Anthony hit the 2x4 with his metal bar and knocked it out of the vampire's hands.

He struck the weaponless vampire's head twice with the metal bar. The vampire staggered backward. As Anthony expected, the vampire with the chain was charging him from behind. He listened and waited. At the last minute he turned around and staked the charging vampire in the chest.

In the corner, Joseph battled an unskilled but spirited vampire. Soon he got the upper hand, threw the vampire into the wall, and then staked him. Anthony closed with the one remaining vampire. He struck him in the knee with his metal bar. Then he hit him in the ribs. Then the face. The vampire fell. Joseph went down on top of him and staked him.

Gugan walked down to the floor. Buffy jumped down twenty fee. "Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant!" Patrick enthused to Anthony and Joseph. Then he turned to Buffy. "Wouldn't you say so Buffy, in your expert opinion?"

Buffy had been mildly impressed. The teamwork. The clever tactics. But their opponents hadn't worked together, and weren't very tough for vampires. "Not bad. For beginners," she conceded.

Gugan went up to Anthony and Joseph. "Great job guys. You guys go home now. There's some stuff in the fridge. I'll be back in a bit to fill you in on what's coming up." They left. Gugan walked over to Buffy.

"Just so you know, they won't be getting in your way by doing any more slaying around here. With you around, what would be the point of that? They'll go where they're needed."

"You seem to have an explanation for everything," Buffy told Gugan. "I don't like that. And, if I may ask, where the hell does cloning fit into all this? You got an explanation for that?"

"That was gratuitous. I admit that. Maybe I did it just to see if I could do it. Thing was, the vamps needed a leader, and that kid's genetic code, it's something special."

"How did you get his genetic code?"

"You'd be surprised how easy it is to get a person's DNA." [Connor was at the movie theater, watching — of all things — "Attack of the Clones." Gugan sat behind him and quickly stuck him in the neck with a needle. Connor barely noticed it. It felt like a mosquito bite. Since Connor didn't know, Patrick rather insensitively saw it as an instance of "no harm, no foul.]

Buffy looked worried. Gugan tried to assuage her fears. "Don't worry, I don't have your DNA. I have no interest in it. I only do demon genomics."

"But Connor's not a demon. I mean, he isn't right?," Buffy asked. Part of her thought he might be. It would explain a lot.

"Biologically, he's all human. Genetically, he's far more. Vampires contain both human and demon genes. When a person is sired and drinks the vampire's blood, the sire's demon genes splice themselves onto the person's chromosomes. That's what turns them. Being the child of two vampires, Connor inherited both human and demon DNA from his parents. Since Connor's physiologically human, almost all of his demon genes are inactive. They simply don't know what to do inside living human cells. However, a small number of vampire genes are able to be active within human cells. Hence, his uncanny physical abilities.

"But it's more than that. Vampires only have one sire, so they only get one set of demon genes. Connor has demon genes from two vampires. That's never happened before. On top of that, his parents come from a very distinguished lineage (he was referring to the Master). Connor's a thoroughbred." This was an interesting choice of word since when Darla told the Master that Angel was her "stallion." Gugan continued. "I guess I wanted to create the most powerful demon fighter I could."

"I don' know a much about cloning, but I know you can't clone an adult overnight. I'm may regret asking this, but -"

"How did I do it?," Gugan interrupted. "You're right. But what I did was splicing, not cloning. All vampires are products of genetic engineering, so their DNA is easier to manipulate. One of the vampires I captured happened to be Connor's height and build. I kept him from feeding off humans so he kept his soul, like the other ones. But I injected him with a virus containing copies of Connor's DNA. I assumed this would only replace the vampire's demon DNA, effectively re-siring' the vampire. But, unfortunately, it also replaced the human genes. As you know, vampires have very plastic faces and extremely malleable faces. which enables them to change their appearance. That's the only way I can explain the fact that he looked like Connor. The vampire himself didn't notice. It's not like he could look in the mirror. A similar thing happened with the larynx, which he did notice, but assumed it was part of the general vampire transformation. The whole thing upset me. I was just trying to make him extra-strong. The kid wasn't supposed to lose his identity like that. He kept all his old memories, and he should have kept his old appearance. In terms of thoughts and feelings and personality, he wasn't Connor at all."

"Then why'd he go ga-ga for my sister?"

"He did what?"

"When I killed him, he was in my sister's bedroom. She dated Connor before he left town. She thought it was him."

"Whoa. I don't know what to tell you. I'm really sorry about that. I can't imagine how awful that was for her, thinking her boyfriend's become a vampire. I should have known better than to let any of them wander outside without supervision. By the way, where did you kill Robert and Lewis, the other two vampires?"

"Found them at the shopping mall."

"Figures. They missed being around people. DId they cause any trouble before you attacked them?"

"Not that I saw."

"And they didn't try to fight back, at first. When you wanted to fight them, they ran away, right?"

"Ran like cowards."

"That's good. Not the coward part. They're not cowards. They just hate to make a scene and draw attention to themselves. Look, Buffy, I understand why you are suspicious of me. You have every right to be. I was secretive. I mix science and demons. But it's not like I could have come clean beforehand and told you what I was going to do. You would have thought I was insane. It would have been like you going up to a complete stranger and telling them you're the Slayer. What you and I do is something that has to be seen to be believed. And now you've seen. Now you should know we're on the same side. We're fighting the same enemy, each in the best way we know how."

"I know what I saw," Buffy replied. "I just don't think you know what you're messing with. These things have a way of backfiring horribly. And when it blows up in your face, I'm gonna be the one who has to clean up the mess."

"Yeah. Well, discovery always entails risks. Better to take the risks than live in the dark."

Buffy met up with Anya, Xander, Willow and Dawn at the Magic Box and explained what the vampires were and what Patrick claimed to be doing. "So he's obviously dangerous," Anya concluded. "Another geek gone bad."

"It's not that simple. I wanted it to be that simple, but it's not," Buffy responded. "Everything he said makes sense. The vampires didn't attack me. And they killed vampires. Don't get me wrong. I don't trust the guy. He scares me. But I can't file him under villain just yet."

"So what do we do now?," Xander asked. "Research or fighting?" After all, that was how they always reacted to a new development.

"For now, neither," Buffy told him. "I don't think our books cover what he's up to. Willow, you're the one who knows him best. Maybe you can talk to him, get a better sense of what his deal is. He sounded like he wants us to know what he's up to. Try to find out what you can. I've had a really long, strange day. I just wanna go home and crash. Dawn, you wanna come?" She did. Buffy had said nothing about the Connor clone, and Dawn wanted some answers.

Anya and Xander were left in the shop with nothing to do. "So everything's fine, we don't have to fight for our lives, and the world's not going to end. Why do I find that so disappointing?," Xander asked Anya.

"No closure," she told him. "We always get closure. This was all buildup, but no climax. Strangely unsatisfying."

"You didn't say anything in there about, well, you know," Dawn said to Buffy in the car.

"I thought that should stay between us," Buffy told Dawn. The guy said it was some sort of clone. He claims he wanted to give Connor's powers to a vampire. The vampire wasn't supposed to look like him, but that accidentally happened on its own."

Dawn was trying to process this. "So that wasn't my Steven. Just a vampire who looked and sounded exactly like him. A vampire with a soul?"

"Apparently," Buffy replied. "I know, it's weird, even by our standards. But it wasn't him. It was something else that just happened to look like him."

"So I kissed another guy? Does that mean I cheated on Steven?"

If I kiss a vampire clone of my boyfriend, does that count as cheating? Even Buffy had trouble coming up with an answer to that whopper of a question. But she did her best. "No, I'm pretty sure it doesn't. You thought it was him. You had every reason to think it was him. Just put it behind you, Dawn. It wasn't your fault. You didn't do anything wrong." They arrived at home.

After they got inside, Buffy went to work. "What's all this talk about cheating? Did you two agree not to date when he went back home?"

Dawn wondered why everyone asked if she and Connor made "agreements," as if fidelity to the one you love required a written contract. "We didn't have time to discuss that. We really didn't even have time to say goodbye. Remember?"

"I only asked because you've seemed kind of lonely recently. Just because HE chose to leave doesn't mean you have to choose to be lonely. I know from experience that you shouldn't spend all your time alone in some tower waiting for Prince Charming to return. Have a life. Make friends. Have a good time. There's no harm in that." Then Buffy tried a bit of flattery. "I mean, it's not like Steven is the only cute boy who's ever shown an interest in you, right?"

"Willow? You mean the Rosenberg girl? I would never have suspected she had it in her," Catherine told Amy.

"Wouldn't have believed it if I didn't see her in action myself," Amy replied. "The way she toyed with dimensions and primal forces, I had trouble keeping up. We'd go out and do these tricks and conjurings, and she just kept pushing the limits further than I even thought possible."

Catherine looked upset. "You and Willow did spells in public, in front of people?"

"In front of people. To people. That was half the fun."

"You go around town advertising your powers? Hey everyone, look at me. I'm a witch.' How could you be so stupid?"

Amy realized she was being scolded. "I don't understand. Are you saying I shouldn't use my powers?"

"I'm saying you shouldn't squander your powers by showing off. Magic is about altering the world without letting the world know it's been altered. If everyone knows about your power, then you're powerless. I catch you flaunting your stuff again, so help me - "

"I'm sorry mom. I won't let it happen again. Don't be mad at me."

"Come here," Catherine said reassuringly. She hugged Amy and looked her in the eyes. "I'm not mad at you. You're my baby. It's my fault you didn't know any better. I never taught you. All that worthless cheerleading. All those wasted hours when I should have been teaching you what mattered. But you were smarter than me. You figured out what mattered on your own. I just hope you can forgive me for being so blind."

"It doesn't matter now, mom. We're starting fresh. Clean slate." Amy was overjoyed because she was no longer alone and her mother was finally proud of her. Everything was changing for the better.

Catherine lied down on the couch and sighed. "Oh, yeah. You can't imagine how good it feels to lie down after standing up for, well, how long was I in there?"

"Six Years."

"Six Years!!! My God!" She ran over to the mirror, checked her face closely. "Haven't aged a day, thank goodness. But you, Amy. You've really grown. You're a woman. I look at you and I realize all I've missed. I'm sorry I couldn't be there for you. Six years gone — I've got a lot of catching up to do. By the way, is that Buffy girl still around?"

Willow knocked on Gugan's apartment door. "Come in Willow," he told her. He had been expecting her. Willow entered. "Guess it's time for me to come clean. I've been looking forward to this moment. No more hiding. No more secrets. There's so much I want to tell you. What is it you want to know?"

"Why do you doing this? I mean, what's your damage? What's your motivation? And if you're on our side, why the cryptic riddles and paranoid secrecy?"

"I'll take the second one first," Gugan began. "I like to think I was more prudent than paranoid. If I told you the truth after you found that demon locked in my closet, you wouldn't have believed me. I had to have tangible proof of my good intentions before coming forward. I didn't have that proof until today. As for the first question, it's not what you think. Lust for power? No. I don't want power. Too much responsibility. Not worth the hassle. Is it a personal crusade? Did I lose someone I love to vampires? No. I'm a lot more boring than that. The reason I do what I do is simple and unglamorous — curiosity. And ego. Every scientist wants to be the first to discover something. I'm the first to discover quite a few somethings. I'm a biologist. I investigate and try to explain the world around me. You live in this town, you see things on a pretty regular basis which appear to defy the laws of science. But that's not possible. Everything we observe can be explained scientifically. They have to be. If things exist in our world which cannot be explained rationally, then they're not real. And then we're not real."

"Maybe we're just figments of someone's overworked imagination. That would explain an awful lot," Willow joked, referring to Buffy's "delusion" that she was in a mental hospital.

Patrick did Willow's whimsical sarcasm one better. "You're right. We could be nothing more than characters in someone's head. One of God's daydreams, or something like that. But if some Higher Being went to the trouble of creating this complex world, making everything fit right down to the last detail, they'd want it to make sense. Way I figure, even if this isn't reality, it's still rational. So it can still be explained."

"But you're not just explaining. You're manipulating. You're building daytime vampires and who knows what else." (She didn't know about the Connor clone.) "You're way beyond curiosity, Patrick. You're messing with powers - "

"I don't understand? I do understand them. I had to understand them in order to mess with them. For instance, to understand vampires, I had to understand blood. Why do vampires live off blood, and only blood? What does blood have a lot of? Iron. Iron in the form of hemoglobin molecules. It's well-known that the hemoglobin molecule happens to be nearly identical in structure to the chlorophyll molecule. The only significant difference is that chlorophyll has magnesium in the center, while hemoglobin has iron. Plants use chlorophyll to make food. Vampires use hemoglobin to make food."

"Vampires are plants?," Willow interrupted. She found that quite disgusting. After all, Buffy had slept with two of them.

"They're demons. Demons are animals. Animals with very novel ways of producing and using energy. That's what makes them so different. That's what gives them special powers. After the vampire drinks the blood, it migrates out to the muscles via the blood vessels, through adhesion and capillary action. Much like how plants move material. When it gets near the skin, it works its magic. The hemoglobin absorbs light through the skin. With this energy, and with the help of more than a dozen enzymes no non-demonic animal possesses, it makes glucose from the water in the blood plasma and from carbon dioxide absorbed through the skin's pores. Vampires do breathe. Through their skin. CO2 in, O2 out.

"It's a very efficient system. Produces enormous amounts of glucose. All that energy's what gives them their power, their superhuman strength, and their ability to rapidly regenerate injured tissue. Problem is, it's too efficient for its own good. Chlorophyll's green, so it absorbs low-energy red and orange light. Hemoglobin's red, so it absorbs high-energy blue and violet light. Expose a vampire to direct sunlight, and it makes and uses so much fuel that it overheats, burns itself up. That's why they can't go out during the day. They get more than enough light for their energy needs from moonlight, starlight and artificial light. You put a vampire next to a 150-watt bulb, and you're actually recharging it!" Patrick laughed. Willow didn't. She was too shocked to laugh.

Gugan continued. "The photosynthetic process cannot occur without the presence of a certain initiator enzyme which is transcribed and translated from a small section of the vampire's genetic code. I created a short genetic sequence which acts as a circuit-breaker on the transcription of this enzyme, thereby preventing the runaway absorption of dangerously high amounts of photo-energy. After the vampire gets enough energy for its immediate needs, it shuts down. Make sense? I mean, from a scientific, microbiological standpoint."

Even from a purely technical angle, Willow was still mystified. "Gene therapy? On that scale? To all the cells in the body? That's just not possible, at least not with any vectors I'm aware of."

"In humans, it's nearly impossible. But vampires are different. Their genetic code is astonishingly malleable. When a person is transformed into a vampire, the demon genes from their sire invade most of their cells — like an incredibly prolific virus — and splice themselves onto the existing human genome. That means the demon part of the vampire genome contains its own vector. I copied that vector. So the very mechanism which sires a vampire can easily be exploited to genetically alter that vampire.

"But, honestly, I don't want to bore you with these arcane details. Here's some research I think you'll be much more interested in." Patrick threw two bound reports onto the couch Willow was sitting on. "This isn't my work. It was written well before my time by some researchers who have recently become friends of mine. They're the pioneers, the ones who got the ball rolling. I'm sure you'll find it extraordinarily provocative."

Xander and Anya were getting something to drink at the Bronze. "So, I take it things have been pretty boring for you this last week, without, you know?" Xander asked.

"Without Sterling. Yeah, it's been lonely. I really miss the sex. But you've probably felt the same, without, what's her name?"

"Elise. I do miss her. Can't say I miss the sex cause, we haven't yet."

"Really? That's surprising."

"We just met. We've only been on two dates."

"Yes, but Xander, you're easy. That's what attracted me to you in the first place. You're a total slut."

Xander took umbrage at this remark. "I am not a slut! Whoa. Did I really just say that? In public!" Looks around to see if anyone heard it and was looking at him funny.

"Elise probably doesn't know how easily she could have had you. Or she's not interested. But if she wasn't interested, she wouldn't have gone out on the second date. That's the only reason any self-respecting woman would go out on a second date. I mean, why waste all that time if you're not going to get any action? We're women — we have needs."

"Anya, does this seem at all odd to you? Us, hanging out, talking, about this, after all we've been through? I mean, after all I put you through? It doesn't seem normal, or even proper"

"Xander, nothing about our relationship has ever been normal. Or proper. Thank God for that. After all, we met because you got a woman impaled."

"And that didn't bother you?"

"Xander, you have to put things in perspective. As a Vengeance Demon, every man I had ever met for more than eleven centuries was some sort of lying, cheating scum-of-the-earth dirtbag. I was grading on a curve."


	3. Return to Sender

Willow comes across some potentially explosive and deeply heretical theories about Slayer Power and the Council of Watchers. Also, Amy's mom comes to Anya seeking vengeance against her ex-husband.

Willow got home, went up to her bedroom, and looked at the two reports. One was about 80 pages, entitled "On the Origins of Slayers and their Power." The other, about 120 pages, was titled "A Survey of the History and Evolution of the Various Watchers' Councils." Willow decided to first read the one of Slayers. It was shorter, and it might have information which directly concerned Buffy. She opened it up and started reading.

Before she could finish the first page, Buffy popped her head into the room. "How'd it go, Willow? Is this guy trouble?"

Willow was nervous. She felt odd reading about Slayers while talking to Buffy, like she was hiding something from her best friend, which she was. "Oh, you mean Patrick? No real trouble there. He's just going after the evil from another angel, angle. (Freudian slip. Something to do with all those vampires with souls.) He gave me some scientific stuff to read - about demons. It looks interesting."

"If you don't sweat him, that's good enough for me. I have enough to worry about already."

The paper was very technical, but definitely a page-turner. In the 1960s, the Council became curious about the physiology of their Slayers. They had been collecting small blood samples from Slayers for decades to test for red and white Blood cell count, platelet count, and other basic information which related to their aerobic capacity and ability to heal. More in-depth tests revealed that Slayers had highly abnormal hormone levels, which presumably enhanced their physical abilities. The Watchers wanted to know if slight differences in hormone levels correlated to specific strengths and vulnerabilites. The Council had long known that certain tactics worked well with some Slayers but not with others. The new information could help customize training methods.

As time went on and the technology improved, younger Watchers began to assume that these abnormal hormone levels were the result of genetic mutations. Since Slayers were born to non-Slayer parents, the mutation most likely had to be inherited from both parents, each of whom carried a hypothetical "Slayer gene." If Slayers really were created by random mating, there was no reason there couldn't couldn't be more that one at any given time. These Watchers put more stock in science and less in mysticism than their predecessors, and would be only too happy with prove that "Into each generation a Slayer is born" was nothing more than superstitious claptrap.

By the 1980's, the technology existed for them to attempt to test their hypothesis. They had access to blood samples from dozens of 20th century Slayers. Recognizing how threatening their idea was, they kept the true goal of their work secret, telling Council elders they were merely following continuing the hormone level research. They began by testing the mitochondrial DNA of the Slayers, which could be used to estimate how long ago their common maternal ancestor lived. From the amount of genetic drift in the mDNA, they calculated that this common maternal ancestor lived 4000 generations ago — about 100,000 years in the past. That matched with the legend about the First Slayer being "created" by shamans 1000 centuries ago.

Next they analyzed the nuclear DNA, trying to find strands which were common to each Slayer. This took a lot of time, but eventually they did find a section of a little over 1000 base pairs which that Slayer had two copies of - one from each parent, as they had predicted. Once they felt they had "proven" the genetic roots of Slayer power, this small faction of scientifically-oriented young Watchers wanted to discover how common this "Slayer Gene" (actually, a collection of many genes) was in the general population.

Unfortunately, that required gaining access to samples from thousands of individuals. Fortunately, they were able to periodically obtain copies of genetic data from friends of friends who worked on the Human Genome Project. By 1993, enough genetic codes had been analyzed for the scientists to reach statistically accurate conclusions. They concluded the Slayer Genes were present in approximately 1 in 4000 women, and 1 in 6000 men.

According to all available records, Slayers did not exhibit their strength and extraordinary physical abilities before they were told of their calling by a Watcher. Usually, Slayer were not called until they had turned fifteen, although some had been called at fourteen or even thirteen. Slayers tended to get more powerful after they turned sixteen. After that, their strength remained constant until they died. The magics the Council used probably detected girls with unusual pheremonal signals given out by girls with the Slayer Genes. These signals were emitted in the late pubescent stage of development, between the ages of 15 and 18. The abnormal endocrine hormone levels which give Slayers their massive strength are triggered by extreme physical stress, such as the stress caused by fighting vampires and fearing for one's life. Slayer Power only manifested itself after the Watcher has told the Slayer of her calling and forced her to fight vampires. Slayers could keep their Power well into their twenties. But no woman over seventeen had ever been called. The Watchers inferred that if a girl with Slayer Genes was not called before the age of 18, her hormone levels returned normal and her Slayer Power could not be triggered. At that point, she stopped emitting a special signal would not detected as a Slayer by the Council's magics.

From their genetic analysis, they concluded that currently there were 12 girls between the ages of 15 and 17 who could be called as Slayers, and that Slayer Power was not a zero-sum game. The death of one girl did not empower another. If this were true, it would shatter much of what the Council took for granted. Even worse, it would destroy the mystical basis for the Council's power and the traditional reason for its very existence. Watchers believed they were the spiritual descendants of the shamans who created the First Slayer. The Council had power over the Slayers because they had created them. If the "noble lie" that Slayer Power was created by men was debunked, the Council would lose all credibility. Also, the existence of multiple Slayers would induce any single Slayer to shirk her duty. Slayers fight because, if they do not, there is no one else to hold back the demons. When a girl goes from being The Slayer to merely A Slayer, she loses her sense of responsibility.

However, there could be an obvious upside. Twelve Slayers could do far more to combat evil than just one. And they would no longer have to be worked to death. Twelve Slayers, each fighting three months a year for four years, would mean there would be three Slayers in the field at any one time. And it would give each Slayer a good chance of surviving. Of course, they could all be used together in the case of a apocalyptic emergency. Furthermore, Slayers wouldn't be the only beneficiaries. More of the people who trained to be Watchers could actually become Watchers. A glut of trained Watchers had created a tremendous bottleneck. There were large numbers of "journeyman" Watchers who never got assigned to a Slayer. Thus, the renegade Watchers believed they had a shot at convincing their brethren to put this radical new theory to the test.

Within a matter of months, the renegades and their sympathizers had been expelled from the Council. A substantial number of young Watchers sided with the Old Guard, even though they had been at odds with their elders in the past. The divide between generations turned out to be less severe than the divide between science and mysticism. Most Watchers were trained in the humanities, in history and folklore, literature and languages. When they worked in the lab, it was to make magical potions, not to conduct serious scientific experiments. A purely scientific explanation of Slayers was a fundamental threat to their view of the world. Even worse, it was something they did not trust or completely understand.

It was after midnight. Everyone else was asleep. Willow couldn't sleep. Too many questions filled her head. She decided to read the other paper. It was longer, but much less technical, and hence a quicker read. Its title "On the Origins of Councils," was provocative, since it implied there were more than one. It was a natural corollary to the previous paper. If there could be multiple Slayers, why couldn't there be multiple Councils?

The paper began with speculation about how "Councils" arose in pre-historic times. A vampire attacked a teenage girl. She fought back and actually overpowered the vampire. Someone witnessed this and was astounded. They told the village elder. He realized this girl had the power to protect the community. So he (and probably others) trained her to fight the vampires. They may have been assisted by shamans who used their magical powers to assist and protect the Slayer. Thus, a primitive Council was formed, and the man in charge of training the Slayer became a proto-Watcher. Such informal Councils would sprout up wherever there was a girl who demonstrated that she possessed Slayer strength.

When civilization developed, formal Councils were created as a subset of the religious/intellectual elite. These Councils would be permanent organizations. They would develop magics which could be used to detect and find Slayers. Thus, a system would develop whereby one Slayer is called, and when she dies her replacement is called. Given the great rarity of girls possessing Slayer Power, the Council would need a large population to draw from. Thus Councils migrated with their expertise to the most powerful nation or empire in a region. The official Council of Watchers traced its origins back to the city of Ur in Sumeria 5000 years ago. After more than thirty centuries in Sumer and Akkad, it moved to Thebes (Egypt) in 1700 BC, to Nineveh (Assyria) in 1200 BC, to Babylon in 700 BC, to Ecbatana (Persia) in 535 BC, to Alexandria in 330 BC, and to Athens in 33 BC. The practical Romans didn't bother themselves with things as ridiculous as vampires, and Athens was a leading intellectual center in the Roman world. The Watchers were Greek, but the Council was officially under Roman control and could recruit Slayers and fight vampires anywhere in the Roman Empire.

After a Gothic raid into the Balkans reached the walls of Athens in AD 262, the Council moved to the more secure environs of Antioch. It moved again to the new capital of Constantinople in 325. In that year, at the Council of Nicea, many Christian bishops wanted to disband the Council because it was run by pagan priests. However, a compromised was reached and the Council was placed under the symbolic control of the Patriarch of Constantinople. Watchers who failed to convert to the new religion were executed. Most, however, accepted the new faith.

This is because the loyalty of Watchers was to their mission, not to their government or religion. If they were not so flexible, they would have perished whenever the city they were in was destroyed, or the empire they were a part of crumbled. This is why, in 660, when Byzantine power was on the wane and Islam was on the rise, the Council defected from Constantinople, converted to Islam, and set themselves up in Damascus. In 758, they migrated to Baghdad, in 1187 to Cairo, in 1410 to Ankara, and in 1453 to Istanbul. In 1571 they defected to Madrid, in 1713 to Paris, and in 1789 to London. Americans, like Romans, were too practical to care about vampires, and so the Council stayed put even after Britain lost her Empire.

Yet this wasn't the only Council. There were at least three others. One was in Mexico, and perished during the Spanish Conquest. One was in India. It was consolidated into the London Council in 1792. Another was in China. That one was consolidated into the London Council in 1842, after the First Opium War.

For the first time in the history of civilized man, there was only one Council. And for the first time in history, this Council had access to every corner of the globe. It could confront evil wherever it rose, and recruit Slayers wherever they rose. This led to unprecedented changes in Watcher-Slayer relations, to the extreme detriment of the Slayer.

The random genetic origin of Slayers meant there was a limited supply of them. When a Council operated over a limited region, it quickly realized that if a Slayer died a few months after she was called it might be several years before the next Slayer rose. Thus Watchers learned to protect their Slayers, to not allow them to fight alone against hopeless odds, to give them support personnel and auxiliary fighters. Slayers could live for five and sometimes even ten years. There were legendary accounts of "retired Slayers" who lost their power in their late-20s and returned to living a normal life. Such legends matched the predictions of endocrinologists that the hormonal shifts which give a pubescent girl Slayer Power would revert to normal as she grew older.

When the supply of Slayers was scarce, their power increased. The Council had no choice but to compromise and negotiate with them. But when the supply of Slayers became abundant, they became the Council's pawns. The London Council soon realized that it could lose a Slayer after six months and immediately find another one, and lose that Slayer after six months and find yet another replacement. Now that they had access to the world's entire population, it really did appear that whenever one Slayer died another immediately rose to take her place.

There was no incentive to play it safe. In fact, there was an incentive to take risks. If the Slayer was thrown into an incredibly dangerous situation and survived, large numbers of evil demons would be dead — a great triumph for humanity. If she died, it was no big loss. There would always be a new Slayer to pick up where she left off. The inherently lonely nature of a Slayer's life was now codified into dogma. The idea that Slayers were destined to fight alone and die alone — which appealed to 19th-century Romantic notions of heroism — became gospel. This served to increase the power of the Watchers. If a Slayer had friends and support fighters, she could be loyal to them, rather than to the Council. A solitary Slayer was completely and utterly dependant upon her Watcher and the Council.

The Council was well aware of the fact that women eighteen or older were not detected and called as Slayers. From this observation, they concluded that Slayers called before turning 18 became less powerful after turning 18. Thus the "tradition" of making Slayers fight a vampire without her powers on her 18th birthday. The "ancient tradition" was invented in 1821 as a way of killing off Slayers the Council deemed a little too long-in-the-tooth. Thereafter, Slayers tended to have a maximum life span of 2 to 3 years. The certainty of youthful death, of dying in battle and leaving behind a beautiful corpse, was fetishized and glorified by men raised on Shelley, Keats and Byron. And since they only looked for one new Slayer at a time, the Council never realized one Slayer did not have to die for another to rise.

To those men raised to believe in and serve the Watcher's Council, these manifest cruelties were viewed as ugly but unavoidable. As best they knew, a new Slayer only appeared when the old Slayer died. Because Slayers were dealing with phenomena ordinary people cannot begin to comprehend, it was natural that they would exist outside of society and work alone. The fact that a Slayer did not stand a good chance of living to celebrate her 20th birthday was unfair, but Watchers "knew" that was the way it had always been. The Slayer had a duty, a higher calling. They sacrificed their lives to protect humanity. And they could not protect humanity without the help of the noble, selfless Watcher's Council.

The scientific faction within the Council appeared to attack the roots of this institution. They declared the Council was created by man and could be destroyed by man. It had no mystical authority, no connection to the shamans who gave the First Slayer her powers, since of course these shaman did not give her those powers. The London Council had no inherent legitimacy. The triumph of science could lead to anarchy, to the dissolution of the lone institution which protected humanity from the beasts of Hell. This terrifying specter rallied the great majority of Watchers against the scientific faction, dooming them to defeat and excommunication. When fighting paranormal evil, it is much more comforting to believe in a world based on magic instead of a world based on science.

It was half past four in the morning. Willow couldn't sleep. Not after reading all this. But what if it was all bunk? Some elaborate conspiracy theory? She had to talk to someone. And she knew who.

"Hello?," an obviously groggy Patrick Gugan said as he answered the phone.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you. If this is a bad time," Willow stammered.

"No, no, it's fine. I'm glad you called. I take it you read the stuff. What did you think?"

"Where did you get these? Who wrote them?"

"Who do you think? The dissidents, the apostates, the ones who were banished. They have a loose network, fighting demons here and there. I've been helping them for the past few years. They're the ones I raised the vampires for."

"So they're like an Anti-Council?"

"Counter-Council. Whatever."

"Do they try to find the extra Slayers they think are out there?"

"No. They can't. They don't know the spells used to find the Slayer. So they're basically blind when it comes to that. Course they hope one day they'll be able to find someone who does. But that's not my thing. The mystical isn't my area of expertise."

The next morning, Catherine Madison resumed her interrupted life. Her beauty salon was still there. Rosemary, her business partner, was running the place. Catherine entered. "It's been a while, Roe."

Rosemary turned. It was like seeing a ghost. Six years after vanishing without a trace, Catherine was back. And she hadn't aged a day. "Cathy? Is that you, Cathy? Where have you been?"

"Indisposed. Is business good? As good as when I was last here?"

"Yes. Uh, yeah. It's improved a bit, over time, actually." There was something terrifying about someone who had vanished years ago appearing out of the blue and acting so casual about it.

"Good to hear that about our business."

"A, ah, our business?," Rosemary stammered. "You-you-you've, b-b-been gone. For a long time. So I figured - "

"I was dead? Of course you would. Then again, no death certificate. No proof. So you couldn't legally become sole proprietor, no could you, Roe? I bet if I checked last year's tax form my name would be right next to yours, right?"

"Well, see, that was a formality. A technica - "

"A technicality. Because technically, I control fifty percent of the equity, soo half the earnings are mine. But you've kept them all, haven't you?"

"Wha-wha-what was I supposed to do?"

"You should have done what you are going to do right now. Give me half."

"Half? But I earned all that money! That was my work, my sweat - "

"And my name on the title to the business. Not the revenues, just the profits. I'm going to go over the books now, calculate what that comes to. I'm guessing you still have that joint bank account with me?"

"Y-y-yes. the account's still there."

"Perfect. Then I'll know where to go to get my share. Look Roe. I'm sorry to burst in and act like such a bitch. But this is business. I understand if you don't want me around anymore. I wouldn't if I were you. So I'll sell my share. And then we'll both move on. One more thing, Roe. Thanks for minding the store while I was gone. I always knew I could count on you."

What was surprising was not what Catherine did, but what she didn't do. She didn't use her magic to "persuade" Rosemary to give her everything. She could have. After all, when they founded the business Catherine could only put up one-quarter of the startup capital. Even though Rosemary put up the other three-quarters, she "chose" to give Catherine a 50% stake in the business. But at this moment Catherine did not need to resort to the black arts. Surprise and a calculating, menacing demeanor did the trick. She checked the records, figured she was owed around $75,000, and left.

Then she went to the Magic Shop. Might as well browse for supplies, see what struck her fancy. What struck her fancy was the owner. Actually, it was the amulet the owner was wearing. Catherine knew she had seen it before. Anya noticed the first-time customer (first time as far as Anya was concerned). "Can I help you?," Anya asked. "Are you looking for something in particular?"

"Actually, I am. By the way, sorry I didn't introduce myself. I'm Cathy, short for Catherine." She shook hands with Anya.

"I'm Anya."

"Short for, Anyaka?," Catherine asked.

This unnerved Anya. She glanced around the store. They were alone. "What is it you want?," she whispered.

"I want what you can give me, Anyaka."

Anya walked to the back of the store. Catherine followed. "You mean vengeance?"

"You can give me that, can't you?"

"Well, of course." Anya now realized this was a golden opportunity. Finally, a women she could charge for vengeance. "So give me the run down."

Catherine launched into her sob story. High school sweethearts. Husband abandons her. Single mother. The shame of it all in a gossipy small town. Anya had heard variations of this tale hundreds of times. "So do I qualify?," Catherine asked.

"Definitely. Absolutely."

"Fabulous. Then I wish - "

"Whoa-whoa-whoa, hold on one second. You're not just gonna wish willy-nilly. Let's talk this out. Throw some ideas off me. What did you have in mind?"

"I want his hair to fall out."

"That's it!? That's all!? After everything he did to you, baldness is the best you can come up with?"

"I want all his hair to fall out, everywhere on his body. Forever. Completely hairless, head-to-toe, for the rest of his life."

Anya smiled. She began to understand. "Oh. Neat. Subtle, but nice."

"Thing is, he's exceedingly hairy — legs, chest, back. Always viewed it as a sign of his virility, his manhood. But if he loses it, if he can never grow a single hair for the rest of his entire life - "

"He'll fell like a woman," Anya replied. "That's very good. You'll make him hate himself — the ultimate revenge. Well, except for evisceration. Very well done. Have you ever considered a career in vengeance?"

"Oh please, you're just saying that," Catherine bashfully responded.

"No, I'm serious. You seem to understand vengeance as an art form. And you have a marvelous eye for detail. I mean, boils on the penis — anyone can think of that. But I sense that you're a true original. Tell you what — I'll talk to my boss, put in a good word, see if he's interested in you."

"Well, it goes without saying that I'd be honored to become one of the immortals. But first things first. I wish - "

"No, no, no! Not yet. There's the little matter of payment."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm a working woman. I have bills to pay. You think I do this for free?"

"Since when did you charge?"

"Since I woke up and got a clue. You're willing to pay to hurt your ex, aren't you?"

"I suppose I am. I guess that's fair. Fee for services rendered. How much then?"

Anya had been waiting a long time for a chance to charge for vengeance. And the waiting had made her greedy. "Fifty thousand dollars."

Catherine gasped. "Fifty grand? That's highway robbery."

"Take it or leave it, Cathy. After what he's done to you, to your daughter, isn't it worth it? Remember, vengeance is the gift that keeps on giving."

It was worth it. So Catherine pulled out her checkbook. "Who do I make it out to?"

"Do I look stupid to you?," Anya retorted. "Fifty thousand, cash. You want your revenge, you'll find a way to get the money."

Thing was, it wasn't hard for Catherine to get the money. After all, there were $75,000 in a bank account with her name on it. She had even gotten Rosemary to sign an invoice authorizing her to transfer that money into her personal account. She did this. Then she withdrew the cash. Nearly broke the bank, but it was her right. Sure, the tellers looked at her suspiciously. But everything she had done was legal. She left carrying a leather bag containing 25 stacks of one hundred $20 bills.

Anya was surprised to see Catherine back only a few hours after she left. She tossed the bag on the counter. "Count it."

Anya opened the bag. There it was. All that money. She had never seen so much money. And it was hers, all hers. She could take it home, and roll around naked in it (by herself for now, next week with Sterling) if she wanted to. That bag of cash was the most awe-inspiring sight she had ever seen. Thousands of crisp bills. She picked up a few of the stacks. Checked to make sure they were $20 bills all the way through. They were. It looked like it was all there. She had never been so proud to be a Vengeance Demon.

"Looks like everything's in order," Anya told Catherine. "Let's do this thing."

Catherine took a deep breath. "I wish my ex-husband would lose all of his hair for all time."

Anya put on her demon face. "Done!" But something felt wrong. The wish was being sent back. It couldn't be executed. It was flawed. It was old. Anya took off her demon face.

"That's stale vengeance! You tried to sell me stale vengeance! You tried to sell me rancid, stale vengeance!"

"Is there a problem?," Catherine asked with a look of surprise.

"When did you husband leave you?"

"Ten years ago."

"Ten years! My god! The statute of limitations ran out a long time ago on you, honey!"

"Are you saying you won't grant my wish?"

"Won't? Try can't!"

Catherine was furious. Now she would have her vengeance — on Anya. "Goddess Hecate - "

Anya put her hand and used her demon powers to send Catherine flying across the room. "Don't Goddess Hecate me. Do you have any idea who you're messing with?"

"Gaea, Cybele, Artemis, her my call, strike down - "

Anya put her right hand out. Catherine's magical bolt bounced off Anya's palm and struck Catherine, knocking her down. "You're way out of your league, lady. Don't even try it," Anya told her. "And it's your own fault for waiting so long."

"I was waiting for you! I summoned you a decade ago. You never came. And you call yourself the defender of scorned women." Catherine turned and walked towards the door.

"You forgot something," Anya called out. Anya threw the bag of money. Catherine caught it and left. Catherine was so mad she had forgotten all about it. But Anya couldn't keep it. It wouldn't be right. Services had not been rendered. Anya was mighty offended by Catherine's insinuation that she was an absentee Vengeance Demon. There had to be a reason why she couldn't help Catherine a decade ago. She wouldn't have missed a summoning.

NEXT: Despite her best intentions, Buffy starts to miss Spike. Xander wonders if he's doomed to scuttle every romantic relationship he engages in. And Amy and her mother go after Buffy.


	4. Not Letting Go

That evening, Willow walked into the living room. Buffy was sitting on the couch, looking bummed. "What's wrong?," Willow asked.

"It's Spike."

"Yeah, the scumbag," Willow answered. "I'm still pretty peeved at him myself."

"I miss him," Buffy told Willow.

Willow couldn't believe it. "What did you just say?"

"I miss Spike."

"No, Buffy. Don't do this to yourself. You're better off without him."

"Sure doesn't feel that way. I know I shouldn't, but I miss him. I try to hate him."

"Hating him is a very good idea," Willow interjected. "I've been doing a lot of Spike-hating myself lately."

"But I can't," Buffy finished. "I've spent years hating him, and there's nothing left. It's all used up."

"So, Spike's so rotten he's exhausted your capacity to hate him. Buffy, that just proves how much of an evil weasel he is."

"Yeah, he sure was," Buffy said with a little laugh. "But he's changed."

"He hasn't," Willow responded. "We all wanted to believe he had. But it was all an act. He made us trust him just so he could hurt us."

"It's because I hurt him," Buffy said. "All the times I said he was a worthless loser, all the times I said I could never love him. He believed me."

"Buffy, you're scaring me. Listen to yourself. You're sounding like, well, like a battered woman."

"Willow, what are you talking about?" Buffy battered? By Spike? By any man? What could sound more ridiculous than that?

"Buffy, think about it. Your relationship with Spike – it's always been abusive."

"I guess I have beaten him up a lot."

"Think back to last year. When did you first sleep with Spike? After you found out he could hit you. You finally break free of him, and he attacks you. He tries to rape you. Then he comes back. Says he's changed. Promises this time things will be different. You see a pattern here? Even now, listen to yourself: he's not bad.' It's all my fault.' If I was just nicer to him he'd be good to me.' Buffy, you're better than this. You're definitely better than him."

"I'm too good for him. I'm too good for any guy. That's my problem. That's my curse. It's why I'll always be alone."

"Because you're afraid of being alone, you'll stay with scum like Spike?"

"It's not like men are exactly trampling down my door trying to date me. It's not easy for me to find a guy who can understand me. Spike could."

"He understood you all right. The way a virus understands the person it infects."

Anya burst in without warning. "The taste. Uh! That awful taste! I can't get it out of my mouth."

"Bad dinner?," Willow wondered.

"Worse. Bad vengeance. Curdled, years-past-its-expiration-date vengeance. Not like fresh vengeance. Not like - " Anya paused to take in Buffy's fresh, ripe vengeance. But she quickly realized something was wrong. "Oh no. Oh no. You've turned the vengeance in on yourself."

"So you noticed that too," Willow commented.

Anya tried to help. "Buffy, you can't blame yourself. You can never blame yourself." Right then, Xander entered. The three women in the living room hadn't yet noticed. Anya continued. "It is always the man's fault. Always."

Willow concurred. "It's like what you said last week, Buffy. Men bad. Men very bad.'"

Xander was mightily confused. "Have a come at a bad time?," he asked innocently.

Buffy was glad to see Xander. Finally, she could end Willow's and Anya's self-righteous intervention. "Don't you remember?," she asked Xander. "Tuesday night is man-hating night around here. But for you, we always make an exception."

"Glad to know I can spend the evening with three of my four favorite women in the world."

"Four? Someone new in your life?," Buffy queried.

Anya explained. "Haven't you heard the news? Xander's got a girlfriend. And she's completely and totally human."

"A human? That's whole new territory for you," Buffy joked.

"You too," he replied.

Willow tactfully changed the subject. "Anya, you were saying something interesting happened to you at work today. The thing that left that awful taste in your mouth?"

"Yes, of course, the stale vengeance. This woman comes in. She knows I'm a Vengeance Demon. And she's got a good story. Definitely sounds entitled to vengeance. So she makes the wish, I'm doing the deed, and it feels all wrong. It won't work. Her man betrayed her – 10 years ago! I'm sorry, but vengeance delayed is vengeance denied. Nothing I could do about it. And the worst part is, she accuses me of malpractice! Says she called on me when it happened but I never showed up. The nerve of her, questioning my dedication. I prided myself on always answering the call to duty. I always delivered."

"You're like the post office," Xander quipped. "Neither sleet nor snow nor dark of night will keep you from causing men agony."

"It's impossible. I couldn't have missed her."

"So she made it up? She never summoned you?," Willow asked.

"She sounded like she had. She must not have been qualified. Maybe she still loved him. Not all scorned women are eligible for my services. I can't wreak vengeance on a man the woman still loves. She has to have once loved him, had that love betrayed, and then stopped loving him. Like Cordelia with Xander. So, even after she was betrayed and had her life ruined, part of her still loved him, still held out hope. Hence, no vengeance."

"Hold wait a second!," Xander interjected. "Cordelia loved me?"

"By definition," Anya calmy answered. "Otherwise, I couldn't have come here. What, you think I help every girl who's been hurt by her boyfriend? Come on! I do have standards, you know."

Xander was dumbstruck. "She loved me? Me? She never told me."

"She told me," Buffy added. Xander and Willow gave her looks of disbelief.

"Since when did Cordy confide in you?," Willow wanted to know.

"We were surrounded and trapped, and she thought she was going to die," Buffy explained. "Imminent death exception." Willow and Xander had heard that one before. It's what Willow said to Xander before they kissed, and Cordelia burst in, and Cordelia fell through the floor and was impaled. Of course, Buffy didn't know this.

Anya went on as if she had revealed nothing especially important. "Don't get me wrong, I feel for this woman. The only man she's ever loved leaves her for trailer trash, and she has to raise their daughter all alone. But there's nothing I could do about it. Those are the rules."

Xander felt horrible. He got up and walked into the kitchen. Anya continued. "And you know what the strangest part was? She was a witch. A witch! When I explain the situation, she tries some amateurish spells on me. "Goddess Hecate, blah blah blah." Willow wasn't listening. She went into the kitchen to talk to him. Anya continued telling her story to Buffy.

"I didn't know. I - I didn't know."

"Neither did I. Who woulda thunk it? Cordelia, capable of love," Willow joked, trying to comfort Xander. Usually Willow was the serious one and it was Xander with the jokes.

"And I didn't even, I didn't even feel, I mean, it's not like she was number two in my book. No, she was number three. That's how little she meant to me. I didn't even notice. I didn't even care. That's horrible. I'm horrible."

"Xander that's crazy. You're the polar opposite of horrible."

"Really? Look at my track record. Look at what I did to Anya. Look at what I did to you."

"You saved my life."

"I'm not talking about that. Think back to high school, all those year I ignored you. And then I only noticed you when you were taken, when you were unattainable. That's it. That's my problem. I only want what I can't have. That's why I've turned my back on every woman who ever gave me a chance."

"Xander, that's not who you are. You're not like that. You're being too hard on yourself."

"And you know what the worst part is? I get away with it. I don't even have to defend myself. You're doing it for me. You saw Anya after what I did to her. You saw how much I hurt her. And still you think I'm a decent guy. Hell, even she thinks I'm a decent guy! Would a decent guy do half the things I've done? I've hurt everyone who's ever cared about me. I've let down everyone who's ever expected anything from me. And I never have to pay for any of it."

Willow kept defending him. "Look, we all make mistakes. We all hurt people we care about without meaning to. That doesn't make you a bad person. It just makes you human."

Buffy was beginning to think this woman Anya met sounded familiar. "So she's a witch. But not a powerful one?"

"She seemed powerful, but very raw and self-taught. No refinement. I'm guessing she could bring down some serious pain on a few hapless mortals if she felt like it. That's the thing. She could have cursed her husband herself. But she couldn't bring herself to do it."

"Did she happen to mention her name?"

"Cathy, Catherine. That's what she told me."

Buffy had heard enough. "Willow! Xander! We have a new problem on our hands." They both came back into the living room. Willow hoped this would bring an end to Xander's bout of self-flagellation.

"Willow, do you remember what Amy's mom's first name is?"

"Catherine, I think. Why?"

"Oh no," Buffy groaned.

"Buffy, what's wrong?," Xander asked.

"Do you guys know when Amy's parents split up?"

"I think it was sixth grade," Willow reported. "I remember Amy took it pretty hard. What does that have to do with anything?"

"Think about it," Buffy began. "Woman by the name of Catherine who's a pretty powerful witch whose husband left her and her daughter ten years ago. Who happened to be in Anya's store today."

Xander and Willow realized what Buffy was getting at. "Oh no. It can't be," Xander declared. "I mean, how? How could she get free?"

"Amy!," Willow exclaimed. "I saw her yesterday. She said she was lonely and seemed to be fishing for a magically-inclined buddy."

"So she brought back the woman who tried to steal her life?," Buffy asked. "That just doesn't make sense."

Anya was confused. "Who's Amy's mom?"

"So this Buffy girl's a busybody," Catherine said to Amy. "Always sticking her nose where it doesn't belong. A real self-righteous do-gooder. Lemme guess: when it comes to her own life, she's no angel. That's always the way it is with these holier-than-thou types. Am I right?"

"To call her history with men scandalous would be the understatement of the century," Amy answered.

"I knew it! See, everyone's got skeletons in their closet. The goodie-goodies, they got a whole graveyard. That's why they always get on everyone else's case. Too scared to face their own problems, so they try to solve other people's."

"Cheerleading! Who could care that much about cheerleading?," Anya wondered. "I mean, come on! Is there a more degrading, pointless activity for teenage girls to participate in?" Xander and Willow started looking nervous. Buffy wasn't amused. Anya didn't notice. "Who even came up with that idea? Hey, let's wear short skirts and tight tops and jiggle up and down so the boys will noticed us, and then if I'm lucky after the game the quarterback will want to feel me up!' Cheering on men like they're the center of the universe or something. What self-respecting young woman would willingly choose to turn herself into such a vapid, superficial sex object?"

"I was a cheerleader," Buffy told Anya.

"No you weren't. I don't remember that."

"Before I was the Slayer, I mean."

"Before you were a Slayer, you were a cheerleader? Well then thank God for Slaying! I guess we were all clueless once upon a time."

"And apparently some of us still are," Buffy remarked about Anya's extreme insensitivity.

Anya started laughing. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm just trying to picture you with the pom-poms, doing the whole Yeah Team!' school spirit thing. It's like imagining you, as Cordelia! You have to see the absurdity in that. To think there's some vampire-free Bizarro Dimension where you two are best friends and talk about boys while doing each other's nails."

"Okay, that is frightening," Willow conceded.

"Can we make a new rule? No more discussion of alternate dimensions of any kind – ever," Xander suggested. Between VampWillow and mental institution Buffy, Xander had had his fill of alternate realities.

Anya got back on topic. "Trapped for six years like that, nothing to do but think about getting revenge on the person who put her there. Buffy, I wouldn't want to be you right now."

"Thanks for your support," Buffy added sarcastically.

"Don't worry, I'll help you. I didn't sell her any supplies. And I won't. No matter how much money she offers me. Did I mention that Witchy Woman's walking around with 50 grand in cash? Forget magic. She can just hire a hitman to gun you down on the street in broad daylight."

"Anya, you're not helping," Xander gently prodded.

"How do you know this?," Buffy wondered.

"I realized I could charge her for vengeance, so I suggested a price of $50,000. It was a joke. I expected her to bargain, haggle me down to a couple grand. But she just left, and came back two hours later with a bag full of money. Who knows what she'll do with that moolah now."

"Let's calm down for a second," Willow suggested. "We don't even know for sure if it's Amy's mom. First things first. Tomorrow morning, we go to school, check the trophy case. If she's gone, I'm gonna have a talk with Amy, try to find out why in the world she did this."

"Then what do we do tonight, sit back and let her make the first move?," Buffy asked with frustration. She hated doing nothing.

"Willow's right. She probably wants you to come after her. You don't want to do anything rash and walk into a trap," Anya advised.

Willow tried to offer comfort. "Buffy, I wouldn't worry about her. You took her down once. And back then, she had the element of surprise. She's no match for you."

Xander, Willow and Buffy took Dawn to school the next morning and headed straight for the trophy case. "It's gone," Buffy said.

"How can you tell?," Dawn asked.

"Her eyes used to follow you around," Willow explained.

"Wow! That is so cool!," Dawn exclaimed. Buffy gave her a dirty look. Dawn didn't appear to comprehend the gravity of the situation. Then Clarke came over to talk to Dawn.

"Hi Dawn. What's up? How's it going?"

"I'm good, Clarke. How are you?"

"Can't complain. Watchya lookin' at?"

"Nothing. Just killing time."

"Say, I was going to the commons to grab a bagel. Seems like a better place to kill time than here."

"Sounds like a good plan to me." And Dawn walked off with Clarke.

Buffy looked at the two of them and smiled. "He seems like a very nice boy," Xander said to Buffy. The two of them appeared more taken with Clarke than Dawn did.

"There's something about him I really like," Buffy cooed.

"How did it survive the explosion?," Xander asks.

"The trophy case kind of creeps me out," Clarke said to Dawn.

"Really! Why?," she wondered nervously.

"My father's state champion trophy's in there. Sometimes I feel like it's watching me. I don't mean literally, of course. That would make me nuts, right? It just reminds me of everyone's expectations, you know? Like I'm supposed to be in that case one day."

"Not literally, of course," Dawn joked. "That would also be nuts."

"Like a Twilight Zone' episode."

"Like they say, be careful what you wish for, cause you might get it." Dawn responded. She sure knew the truth of that.

"That's too bad," Clarke told her. "Cause I was wishing you'd hang out with me some more."

"Wish granted," Dawn said with a smile.

Now that they knew it was true, Willow tracked Amy at the UC-Sunnydale campus. "Look, if I knew you were that lonely, I wouldn't have blown you off."

"So you've heard."

"Why, Amy?"

"She's my mother."

"She tried to take your life away. She tried to kill you."

"Your mother tried to burn you at the stake. Or have you forgotten about that?," Amy tartly responded. She did have a point. "Tell Buffy my mom's looking forward to seeing her again." And with that Amy walked away. She knew she was in control. And she liked that feeling.

Willow told Buffy. Always one to be proactive, Buffy paid Catherine a house call. Catherine opened the door. "Buffy! It's been so long. I've been thinking about how to repay you for what you did to me." Buffy wasn't going to give Catherine the chance. She punched her in the face and charged into her house.

"That's not being polite, now is it?," Catherine told Buffy with a wicked smirk and a cold, calculating laugh. "I thought Joyce raised you better than that." Buffy threw Catherine into the credenza. Then she pulled Catherine's right arm behind her back and shoved her face against the top of dining room table.

"Now you listen to me, and you listen good," Buffy began.

"No, you listen to me," Amy interrupted. Buffy looked to her left. Amy was holding a gun. Buffy let go of Catherine and backed away from Amy. Amy followed her. The gun was pointed at Buffy's forehead. Amy cocked the weapon. Buffy had not anticipated this.

"Amy, listen, this is crazy. You pull that trigger, and everything changes. Things will never be the same for you. Please, just relax, put the gun down. Okay?"

"I don't see the harm. I mean, you already died once, right? I'm just putting you back back you belong."

Buffy was genuinely frightened. "Amy, please, stop!"

Amy smiled. "What, you're gonna beg for your life? Sorry. I don't have the patience to listen." Then Amy pulled the trigger. Buffy flinched. The chamber rotated. The gun didn't go off. Amy pulled out the revolver's chamber and spun it around for Buffy to see. "It's not loaded." She laughed. Catherine laughed. Buffy was furious. If there was one thing she hated more than having her life threatened, it was being made the butt of a practical joke.

Amy gloated to Buffy. "You thought I was gonna do it! You actually believed I was capable of killing another human being in cold blood? You're so gullible!"

"Either that or you're paranoid," Catherine told Buffy. "Of course, just because you're paranoid doesn't mean someone's not out to get you." Buffy got in Catherine's face. Catherine laughed. "You're real good at looking tough, Summers. But what are you gonna do to me? Right here, right now, what are you going to do to me?"

That was the problem. Buffy couldn't do anything because Catherine hadn't done anything. She couldn't lay a hand on her. After all, Catherine was a human being. Buffy knew this. And apparently Catherine knew it as well. Buffy glanced over at Amy. She shook her head, as if she couldn't believe Amy was a part of this sick charade. Buffy backed out of the Madison house, glaring at both Catherine and Amy. She knew this wasn't over.

After she left, Catherine congratulated her daughter. "Amy, you were brilliant! That look on her face. It was priceless! What a performance!"

"You were right mom. She did everything you said she would. You got Buffy's number."

"It's about time someone taught that brat a lesson," Catherine declared.

Early that evening, Willow went over to Xander's apartment. She was worried about him. "You okay buddy?," she asked. "What's on your mind?"

"It's Elise. I really like her. And I think she really likes me. I've been here before. We'll have some great times, make each other happy, then I'll break her heart, just like I always do."

"So what are you gonna do? Break up with her now, so you don't have to break up with her later? That's not a nice thing to do to a girl."

"I just don't want to hurt her."

"Then don't. Stop being afraid. You can't run scared from someone new who might make you happy just because of bad things that happened in your past. If you don't take a chance, you'll just end up lonely and miserable." Funny how Willow never applied this line of reasoning to her relationship with Zooey.

Later on, Willow was back home to hang out with Buffy. "It's been a crazy week," Buffy told her.

"Sure has," Willow remarked.

"Nothing's the way it should be."

"Topsy with a side of turvy."

"Everything's so complicated. Nothing's what it seems anymore."

"Things we took for granted, out the window." Here Willow was referring to the reports she had read but didn't yet have the guts to tell Buffy about.

"I think we both really need a good slay," Buffy proposed.

Willow and Buffy were out on the hunt, or patrol as Buffy euphemistically referred to it. It this instance, hunt was the proper term. They were looking for something to kill. After all, killing always made everything better.

"This is what I like about slaying," Buffy told Willow as they walked through the graveyard. "Good kills evil. Evil disappears. It's all so simple." They saw a vampire rise and prepared to dust him. Before they got the chance, the vampire fell face first onto the dirt. Standing behind the vampire was Patrick Gugan. He was holding a tranquilizer gun. Buffy and Willow saw the dart in the vampire's back.

"Mind if I rescue this one?," he asked politely. Now even slaying wasn't so simple anymore.


End file.
